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Jinko's Journal
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCKQgJ0Eqlg A leather bound book with the Davrosian eye symbol stamped into the cover. Entry 1 Today marks my last day at the academy in Beholden. It's been a long four years, but at the same time it seems like just yesterday I left home to begin my duty to the Protectorate. Like all graduates for a thousand years before me, they'll be dropping me and a partner into the blight. "Only the worthy survive," they say. Kark, I've known plenty of men who live and breath worthy to the Protectorate ain't never returned from that place. Be me brave or fool enough, my hopes are not high of seeing the light at the end of this tunnel. Count it as luck, count it as fate I'm heading to the chopping block with the bravest geffen-guttin' partner I could ask for. Kanoe and I ain't brothers by blood, not by a long shot. We're from two separate clans, opposite sides of the plain. Generations ago when clans still mattered, before the Protectorate, we woulda been mortal enemies. We got similar traditions, so we both got our faces fireskinned as youngins. First day at the academy everyone assumed we were related. So we stuck with it. War's comin', and I don't much care to be part of it. If tomorrow brings my last breath I welcome it. It's the waiting that kills me. The not knowing what's ahead. Just another moment in a string of moments from the first moment that I could understand that my life was on a track to be wasted. Every action, every meal, every breath was just a step toward the continuation of the spinning of a cog in an unstoppable machine. We have no free will. All is predestined, just as Davros intends. Entry 2 Captain Godrian personally escorted us to the airship that would take us to the blight. We might as well have taken a hearse. He nodded to us each and patted us on the shoulder. Gave a longer look to Kanoe - the most emotion you'd ever see out of the man. Never had much of a relationship with the captain personally. But Kanoe's his star student. If we return... IF... We'll be shipping out as part of his crew. And Godrian needs a good hand at his side. And I suppose I'll be schlepping along with them. We leapt from the airship with nothing but our shields, pikes and rations. I realized as I fell that this could be the last time I saw sunlight. This could be the last moment I'm not surrounded by these sickly purple petals. I didn't feel much sentiment for the sunlight. But I do hate these plants. We feather fell safely enough and made a good camp. Entry 3 It's not correct here. The light's not right. I know when it's day, but here it's always twilight. Not bright enough to see without shadows making tricks of your mind, but never dark enough to sleep. Entry 4 We've been traveling for days. We came across our original campsite. One. Big. Circle. Kanoe's a better explorer than this. I'M a better explorer than this. It's not correct here. The land's not right. Entry 5 We were attacked by bielburts today. A whole swarm. Slimy, nasty, floating bags of sharp bones. We fought them off easy enough. Hell, I've been fighting these buggers off since I was a kid. I can kill em sure enough, but I can't look at one without gagging ever since the day one got itself locked in my throat while camping. But here's the kicker: they're not native to these parts. They stick around the ocean. Down in Drayton or Alderlene. The creatures aren't right. Entry 6 Two eventful days. First the bielburts, then a troll. Not just any troll... Furvantu. The troll who steals children in their sleep and turns them into stones, abandoned at the bottom of a river. Forced to freeze and suffocate in the watery darkness. The mythical creature from MY folklore. Down to every detail described to me by my grandmother to try to keep us in line as children. The stench from its scales that burns your nostrils until you can no longer breath the air required to flee... The pulsating suction cups on the tips of its fingers than turn skin to stone... The feeling that if you would only let go and listen to its whispers that you could give in to some sort of perversion of the mind, a relinquishment of your freedom, convinced that eternal life as an inanimate object wouldn't be so terrible after all. A complete loss of the ability to make a decision of survival for yourself. I felt it all before I even saw it on the other side of our campsite. It shuffled out from the darkness of the trees behind Kanoe. I told him - warned him. I knew from the bottom of my soul what this was, and what to do. We were not to engage with Furvantu. We could not listen to his whispers. We could not acknowledge that he existed. This was the only way to survive the encounter. We both stared at the fire silently. It circled us. I could smell the stench. I could sense the pulsating. I am not afraid of death - I was afraid of this. Afraid to hear the voice. Afraid to hear the words that only those who can no longer speak could know. I had to shut it out, I had to be sure that the sound entering my ears would not make it into my mind. "...help you" I heard it mumble. The voice of the youngest child, and the eldest man, all in one. Suddenly I wanted to go with the creature. I felt its soul in mine. My resolve of the preceding thirty seconds melted away and my legs stood of their own accord. Kanoe whispered a harsh warning, but I could barely hear him. I didn't want to hear him. Suddenly there was a river. I stood by the edge as Furvantu embraced me in a cold grip. Looking down, I saw no reflection - just a single stone. I don't think I moved. The river and the earth itself moved toward me until my nose made contact with the ice cold water. Suddenly I heard the voice scream, and a body collapsed next to me in the water. I was on my hands and knees next to the river. And beside me was Furvantu - ink-black blood spilling out into the water with a pike through his torso. Kanoe stood behind me, out of breath. We did not speak further of the encounter. Tonight I've come to realize that there's nothing in this forest, except what we bring into it. Fear, manifested into reality. Kanoe cannot know I'm the reason this is happening. But as I sit here writing next to the fire, he lays, supposedly asleep. I'm afraid he's already come to the same conclusion - that my fears have become a liability to our survival.